Rice's Secrets
by Harmony Remarc
Summary: I quit with the summaries. The plot keeps changing on me. So just read it. Once I've finished writing it, I'll put up a real summary.
1. Chapter 1

_Well , this is my first fanfic. I've read a lot of them in my time (including some crappy ones) and know what I do an don't like. However, I am a horrible judge of my own writing._

_I used David as my main character. It's not slash and he's not a lame character. I'm trying to evolve the Walking Mouth into something a little better than his fan fic rep lets him be. So... on with the tale._

* * *

"We don't need you! 'Cause all those words you said? Those were mine!"

"But you didn't have the guts to put 'em across yourself, didja?"

"I do now."

Dave spun on his heel and walked toward the newsies gathered, all staring at Jack with a mixture of disbelief and anger on their faces. He was sure the same expression was reflected on his own face. Slowly, David turned back towards Jack and with abrupt vengeance threw himself at the scab. Weasel and the bulls held him back while David struggled to free himself and unleash his newfound hatred on Jack.

"Maybe, maybe you'd like a new suit of your own, huh?" Weasel bribed.

"Never!" David spat back.

"Get outta here! Off with him." Weasel ordered the bulls.

As Jack and the other scabs were escorted away, the newsies shouted angry taunts at Jack.

"We trusted you!"

"Seize the day, huh Jack?"

Little Les, unable to comprehend why his idol was being led away as a scab, cried pitifully, "He's foolin' 'em. So we can spy on 'em or something! Yeah, that's it! He's foolin' 'em!"

Racetrack took sympathy on the kid, and unconvincingly agreed with him. The rest of the newsies glared after Jack's retreating back while pretending to comfort Les.

One by one, the group separated. No one knew exactly what to do. Spot took charge of breaking up the minimal fistfights. David wandered aimlessly down nameless streets on his own, attempting to compose his thoughts. He moved along the back alleys, numb. A cold bitterness began to grow inside of him. His eyes grew hard and heart frozen. Jack. He'd betrayed them all. The newsies would never listen to David- no. He had the brains, true, but not the charisma that made the world fall at Jack's feet. Hatred silently worked its way into David's veins. Trust? Never. Never again. Wrapped up inside himself, David kept pushing forward, not knowing where his feet would lead him.

Forward. A young child dashed out in front of David and knelt down to pick up a stone. David glared at the creature that blocked his path. The youth glanced up happily to show off his prize, but saw the closed expression on David's face and ran away frightened. He kept walking. Horace Greeley rose up in front of him. David had walked in circles. Frustrated, he sank down by the base of the statue.

Exhaustion over took the boy. Head drooped in defeat, the Walking Mouth sank into a restless sleep. Hours past. The sun, which had been beating on his head when David first nodded of, now awoke him by its absence. The chill that had overtaken the air reminded David of his own mood. Rolling his head, he was slightly disconcerted by the fact that a pair of girls shoes were dangling above his head. Pulling himself away from the cement block, he saw legs and a body attached to the shoes. A girl with short brown hair peered at him curiously with blue eyes.

"Hello." She said softly. David looked at the girl with contempt. She looked about 16 years old and had an innocence that sickened him. He nodded sharply at her in reply. Her eyes narrowed. In a harder voice, she continued.

"You don't have to be rude you know. I mean, it's not like you just got betrayed by your best friend or anything…" She trailed off and studied him closer. Recognition dashed across her face. "I take that back. You're David Jacobs, aren't you?"

David looked at her carefully. No, she didn't seem familiar. Then how…

"No, you don't know me," she assured him cheerfully. "But I know you. I was at the rally the other night. You, Jack Kelly, and David Matthews were up there on the stage."

"David Matthews?" He asked, the contempt starting to fade from his face.

"Well… I guess most of the world knows him as Spot Collins or something like that, right?"

"Spot Conlon. What do you mean 'most of the world'?"

"David was my neighbor before he ran away. He gave me my first kiss." David looked bewildered.

"Ran… but… Spot?" He studied her again. "Who are you?"

"Alison. Alison Riley. Look, do you want to get away from here? 'Cause, in case you haven't noticed, it's a bit cold out. And the good Mr. Greeley sure isn't gonna offer much protection against the cribs or the Delancey's come nightfall." David smiled wryly at the peculiar girl before him.

"True, Alice. Very true." With that, David made an about face and set out at a steady pace away from the miserable statue.

"It's Alison…" she called out, and then faded to almost a whisper. "Not like you'd care, or anything."

* * *

The bitterness that had faded while David listened to the girl speak came back in full force as he approached his apartment. Jerking his body blindly up the dark, rickety fire escape, he paused outside of the window. Les was sitting on his mother's lap, face buried in her arms. David could tell the boy had been crying, if the shuddering breaths were any notion to go by. Esther Jacobs smoothed her youngest child's hair, and stared out at the blackening night. David stepped back to avoid being seen, and instead past the living room window, and stepping over the sill of the room he shared with his siblings.

Sarah sat by the mirror, completing her nightly ritual of brushing her hair and humming. David rolled his eyes at her girlish ways and moved to his mattress. Without bothering to change, he kicked off his shoes and lay on top of the covers, facing the wall away from his sister. Sarah glanced over at him.

"David…" she began. He glared over his shoulder at her contemptuously. She faltered, and then purged forward bravely, but quietly. "He hurt me, too." She stood up, darkened the room, and left. As Sarah walked out the doorway, David caught a glimpse of a tear rolling down her cheek. She was gone before he could say anything.

* * *

Morning came. The sun shone brilliantly and the three Jacobs' siblings rose to greet the day. Les, seemingly forgetting the previous days events happily chatted with Mayer Jacobs about how "headlines don't sell papes, newsies sell papes" and how to "improve the truth". When his father raised his eyebrows, Les wisely piped that he was going to go and help Sarah.

She was sitting on the bed, going through the dresser drawers. David stood by the window, hunched over in anger. Sarah glanced back at her brother, and continued her sorting. Her hand touched a piece of paper, wrapped around…

"Les, what is this?" She asked, trying to hold back her laughter as she handed the child his hot dog.

"I was saving it," he replied sulkily. Sarah rolled her eyes as she looked at the paper that had held the treasure. Writing covered the sheet. It looked like a story. The byline read….

"David! It's Denton's article!" She said excitedly as she crossed to another bed. "'The Real Truth. Why our city really fears the Newsie strike. Last night I saw naked force exercised against mere boys…'" Sarah heard the window slam open behind her and turned just in time to see David climb out onto the fire escape. She sighed. Her brother wasn't stupid. Anyone who talked to him knew that. He loved knowledge, not school. But Sarah also knew that when David was angry, his judgment was clouded. Anything could happen to him. His anger would grow and simmer for weeks before he would find a release. In the meantime, all they could do was wait.

* * *

_Idiot. Does she _really_ think that I want to hear about what Denton wrote? He's just as big of a traitor as Jack. Mr. Big-Shot-Charge-Up-San-Juan-Hill. Mr. King-of-New-York. Mr. Big-Fancy-Writer. He sold us out! He'll loose his job, he says. So what? Isn't what we're doing _important_ enough? Isn't fair treatment for the working class of America _big enough_ for him? Jerk._

David was once again wrapped up in himself. He hated himself for it. Why did he actually have to be smart? Why couldn't he be a brainless follower like the rest of them? Why did his family have to already know about unions? Why did he go to the distribution office on that day? And why on earth did he have to bring Les?! If Les hadn't been so in awe of Jack, none of this would be happening. The strike wouldn't have happened- David was pretty sure of that much. Really. Who did Jack think he was? Sure, he'd gotten everybody pumped up, but wasn't it David who'd given him the words? Wasn't it David who'd given him the idea to talk to Pulitzer? Wasn't it David who was first approached by the traitor Denton for a story? Wasn't it David who'd talked down the famous Spot Conlon himself?

_Heh. Or, David Matthews._ Unbidden, a smirk climbed onto David's face. That girl from yesterday, what was her name? Riley something? She'd just given Mouth some blackmail material. After the first meeting on the pier, David had done some asking around. Nobody knew Spot Conlon's real name. And anybody who asked the Brooklyn king never asked twice. David could sympathize. His name wasn't exactly one to strike fear into many hearts. Just look at Goliath. But then again….

"Still in a bad mood, Grumpy?" A voice popped up beside him. The Walking Mouth glanced sideways and saw the same girl from the previous evening. In the morning sunlight, he now could see that while she wasn't gorgeous, she wasn't bad-looking, either.

"I'm not Skittery," he shot back at her. She smirked. David was impressed that she knew who the boy was. "Lemme guess," he intoned, "Skitts was your next-door neighbor as well and was your second kiss?" For this remark, David received a smack across the arm. A smile played on his lips. Once again, this stranger managed to make David forget his anger, his hatred, his hurt.

"Do you remember my name now?" The girl asked playfully, avoiding the question. David bit his lip. "Ri…ce?"

"Rice? That's worse than Alice! Where'd you get Rice?" she replied, offended.

"I think yesterday, you said something like Riley, but I don't think that's it. And I remembered Alice. Rice just kind of slipped out." He explained pitifully.

"It's Alison. Say it with me. Al-ih-son. Alison." David raised an eyebrow. "Fine," she conceded after a moment. "Walking Mouth, I'm Rice Riley. Ugh… that sounds horrible!"

"The nickname or the last name?" he asked curiously.

"Alone, they're fine, but together… ugh!"

"Well, Spot totally changed his name, why can't you change yours?" David asked seriously.

"To what?"

"How about Anbeans?"

"Rice Anbea… hey!" David was cracking up. The remaining stress left his shoulders and his heart. After glaring for a moment, Alison joined in.

"That's better. I wondered if you had any humor hidden in there." David cocked his head.

"Who are you?"

"You already asked that question. I'm Alison "Rice" Ri…"

"No. Not your name. I mean, who are you? To just come up and talk to me? Who knows Spot Conlon's real name? Who knows that Skittery was always in a bad mood? Who knows my name? Who was at the strike rally and wasn't arrested! Who are you?"

Rice peered at him. David found himself wanting to keep eye contact, just so he could see those blue sapphires hidden behind those long lashes.

"That…" she replied softly, "you are going to have to discover for yourself." It was her turn to make a slow about face. Rice began to walk off on the crowded street.

"Wait! Rice!" Her head turned back, and the rest of her body followed slowly. Her steps kept carrying her backward, even as she looked at David. Her eyes were open, inviting him to speak.

"When will I see you again?"

"I'll be around… just keep your eyes open. I'll be waiting just around the corner of your eye." With that, the newly dubbed Rice was swallowed up by the busy traffic.

_The corner of my eye? What?_

A scream echoed through the street. David's first impulse was to ignore it. But the panic in the voice sounded familiar. Almost like… "Sarah!"

* * *

**Well. That's what I've got so far. So, Newsies fans. Is it worth it to continue? Totally lame? Never pick up my keyboard again? What do you think? Please R/R**  



	2. Chapter 2: The Fight

**Ah, yes. Chapter two is finally up. I'm basically going off the canon, but there are a few places where it's not quite the same because I loaned out my DVD and can't check. So forgive the places where it's not quite right. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy. Reviews are much appreciated.**

* * *

David's feet beat the pavement, searching wildly. There! Les was toppled on the ground, looking dazed. Mouth ran to his brother, frightened out of the stupor Rice had left him in.

"Are you alright?" he asked quickly.

"I'm-alright-Sarah-help-Sarah," Les answered. David looked back and saw his sister surrounded by the Delancey brothers. Unbound fierceness wound it's way through the Mouth's whole being. He threw himself at one of the boys. Fists seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. He could hear Sarah screaming. David was outnumbered and out skilled. Light broke through as half of the fists randomly beating him were yanked away. The other pair simply grabbed him and held on, staring at the newly arrived Jack Kelly. As David wheezed, he could hear Kelly challenging, "Remember Crutchy?" Before David could really grasp what was going on, the Delancey's were tearing down the ally. Something about "back at the Refuge by supper time" broke through the tense air. Sarah grabbed Mouth in a tight hug.

"You came back," He said sullenly to his rescuer. Jack nodded, breathing hard.

"Well, I guess I can't be something I ain't."

"What, a scab?" David muttered rudely.

"No. Smart."

Satisfied her brother would live, Sarah turned her attentions to Cowboy. He smiled weakly at her and received a slap across the face. David raised his eyebrows and he and Les looked on with amusement as the next instant, their sister threw herself into Jack's arms.

"Why'd you do that Jack? Why? And why'd you come back? You… you…" the rest of her words were muffled against Cowboy's chest. When her fears were subsided, she took a step back.

"Better?" Jack inquired. Sarah smiled shyly back. Les, tired of being ignored shoved his sister aside and gave Jack his second giant hug of the hour.

"Heya Les. They hurt ya at all?"

"Nah," the boy said modestly, slipping into the street accent. "I's kin take care a myself."

"I'll bet you can," Cowboy agreed. "But if they woulda come after you like they had Davey-boy with those brass knuckles, you'd a' been hurt real bad. It's lucky your big brother ain't dead right now."

_My hero_, David thought sarcastically. Sarah glanced around at the boys and caught David's eyes. She could read how angry her brother was at the fact of being rescued by a traitor. Pretending she hadn't noticed, she began ushering her crew like a mother hen out of the alleyway.

"We need to get back to the house. They might come back with re-enforcements," the teen rationalized as they reached the entrance. "Les, when we get back, we'll need water and some cloths to clean up some of the scrapes you three have managed to assemble today. Jack, you and David are first on the list of injuries, and then you have a lot of explaining to do. And David?" She glanced around. David was gone.

* * *

David had slipped away the instant his sister had glanced in the other direction. She would have a brilliant plan to fix the small part of the world they lived in. But Sarah didn't know how to put a bandage on the larger sphere of New York. Sarah was smart, yes, but she didn't have any idea of the outside world. She didn't realize how deeply the scabbing had scarred her brother. She didn't know how to run a strike.

_And you do?_ He accused himself._ All you have on Sarah is about two days in the streets. _He rolled his eyes, angry at himself. Feeling desperate, he looked around. The last two times he had walked away engulfed in his own thoughts, the Girl had shown up. As if sensing his thoughts, Rice appeared on the cross street corner, seemingly doing her own searching.

"Rice!" No response. "Rice!" The girl jerked her head around. She gave a quick smile, waved, and paused. She looked torn between walking to David or continuing on her business. He solved the dilemma for her by picking up his speed so he could catch up to her.

"Hello," David started brilliantly. She smiled at him as they started off.

"It seems like forever since I've seen you. I mean, it's been, what? Twenty minutes? An eternity!" She threw back at him. David laughed at her frilly remark..

"A lot can happen in a little amount of time," he responded.

"Tell me about it." Though her response was directed at David, the words seemed to be spoken to herself. He glanced at her curiously for an instant before informing her of the most recent turn of events. When he mentioned Jack, Rice looked up quickly. As he finished his rendition, she spoke up.

"He's back? That's great!"

"Yeah. Great."

An awkward silence passed between them. She looked at David, head tilted, questioning.

"Come on, Rice. He's a scab! I don't know how much you know about the newsies or whatever, but he betrayed us. At least understand that! I can guarantee that at this moment, my sister is showing off I'm-on-your-side-Denton's article. And Jack won't care. He never cares. All he does is think about himself."

"I know more about the newsies than you think, David Jacobs. But on the subject of Jack., how do you know he won't care? After all, isn't that what he probably thought about you when the strike began? The fresh plucked boy who has no idea about how hard life is? Why would you care what happened to these boys you only knew for a day? You could have left them. You could have abandoned them. But you didn't. You led the strike. You will lead it to victory. And if you let him, Jack will be at your side. Think about today. He cared enough about you and your siblings to go against two of the biggest bullies in a fight. He has passion. So do you. Combine what you know, and you'll be 'unstoppable'".

David looked at her with an open mouth. "Just how much about us do you know?"

"Enough. But are you going to led your stupid pride get in the way of justice? Show Jack that you'll be willing to stand by him and finish this thing. If you don't do it for yourself, do it for Boots or Crutchy or Specs or Racetrack. Do it for the boys in Queens and Harlem, Midtown and the Bronx. And for Brooklyn," she added as an afterthought. "Tell ya what. You get Jack to restart the strike, and then you and I? We'll talk for real."

"So you'll finally tell me how you can talk like an educated, 'high-faluting'' girl?" David coyly asked the blatantly poor girl standing in a faded dress before him.

"Is it a deal?" she insisted. David sighed, and nodded.

"Just don't forget, the last time I was part of a deal, I wound up having to bail my friends out of jail." Rice laughed, and the two parted ways. David glanced around, and realized that they had walked in a circle. He was standing right where he had first caught sight of Rice. _I wonder why she didn't keep heading to her original destination? _As he worked his way through the afternoon crowds of New York, a song rose up in his heart. Quietly, he sang along with the melody.

_So many questions_

_And I wonder why_

_I trust you_

_I don't know who you are_

_But you seem to know me_

_You say jump_

_I ask how high_

_You say reach_

_I touch the sky_

_Argumentative_

_And too perfect words_

_You are complicated_

_If you were anyone else_

_I might want you to be mine_

_But just right now_

_There's too much on my mind_

_I wonder why_

_You're even here_

_Why do you know me?_

_Why do you care?_

_Even though I don't love you_

_Will you be my friend?_

_Through the hard times_

_Can I spill my soul_

_Will you let me speak_

_And not judge?_

_Will you be my friend?_

_Be my friend?_

_Be my friend?_

_Just today._

_I don't know how much to trust_

_And I don't know why I'm pouring_

_Out my heart to a stranger_

_In a song and in speech_

_But let me speak_

_And tell me about you_

_Tell me things will be okay when times are hard_

_Even though I don't love you_

_Will you be my friend?_

_Through the hard times_

_Can I spill my soul_

_Will you let me speak_

_And not judge?_

_Will you be my friend?_

_Be my friend?_

_Be my friend?_

_Just today._

* * *

The door opened at the Jacob's apartment. Sarah, Les, and Jack tensed as David walked into the bedroom where the three were sitting. Jack had long since removed the scabber clothing and now was residing in Mayer Jacob's old clothes, formerly in a shelf in wait for the day David could wear them. David's face was hard, yet with an almost glowing look in his eyes.

"Have you shown him what Denton wrote?" Sarah shook her head. David looked at her. Time seemed to stop as she attempted to decipher the strange expression on her brother's face. Finally, he spoke.

"Get it out. We've got a lot to do."

* * *

As the quadruple made their way to Denton's apartment, David pulled Jack aside to walk slightly behind his siblings.

"I still don't trust you," he said quietly. "And I certainly don't like you at this moment, but we've got to work together if we're going to finish this mess you've started." He wiped his forehead with his hat, cursing the July heat. Jack seemed to shrivel.

"There's a lot you don't know…"

"And a lot I don't care to know. Maybe someday, but not today, Cowboy. The boys said it right. We trusted you. And you let us down. I can't do this on my own, and Conlon isn't gonna be much help without you, but I don't start anything I don't finish." Jack shamefully nodded, and then with a determined stride, led the group up the stairway to Denton's apartment. He knocked powerfully.

"Did you mean whatchu wrote here?"

* * *

Sneaking around the house with only parents around is one thing. But sneaking into the World distribution office in order to print an illegal paper in the dead of night? Not the easiest thing in the "world".

"You've been living here?" Sarah asked in a horrified whisper. Jack whispered something back at her, but David was too far away and too busy looking around himself to hear. The basement Kelly had led them to was dark, dirty, and dank. The stairs seemed like they could crack at any second. Even the slightest noise seemed to be like a shout in the silence.

"A patent press! Looks like old man Pulitzer never threw anything away," Denton excitedly informed them.

"Do ya think it'll work?" Jack asked worriedly. Denton smiled reassuringly.

"It had better. We've got a deadline!"

_This time we're in it to stay_, David thought determinedly as he picked out the letters to hand to Denton. It was a difficult thing to write a newspaper, he realized, pounding gently on the reversed wording. But it's even harder to publish one. Finally, laden with ink, the first issue of the Newsies Banner rolled off the printing press.

_One down,_ they all thought, glancing out at the still darkened sky,_ five hundred thousand to go._

* * *

Les kicked a rock as he pouted. David had sent him to go "gather the other newsies- tell them what's going on". Why did he have to miss all the fun? David probably thought he made too much noise, or some other stupid excuse, so he made up a reason that Les couldn't join in on making the newspaper. Les hated being the youngest child. His family was so bossy!

A shadow fell in front of the boy. He looked up sharply, squinting at the lamp lit figure. A boy, about David's age stood in front of him wearing newsies clothes.

"You a newsie?" Les asked boldly. The person studied him, face still immersed in shadows.

"Les," a feminine voice protruded from the masculine form standing in front of him, "where's your brother? What are you doing here this late at night?"

"My family's making a newspaper," Les informed the night importantly, "I'm supposed to get all the newsboys and tell them to meet at the window of the World distribution basement. So you gonna help?"

The girl- or was it a boy? paused before speaking.

"I'll help spread the word and'll be there at daybreak. Sound good?" Les grinned cheekily and began to walk away. "Oh, and Les," the voice continued, "be careful, okay?"

Les turned around quickly, insulted. "Who are you?"

"Call me Rice," the voice replied before leaving Les standing alone on under the lamp.

* * *

**Shabooyah. We are getting closer to the end of the movie. Within the next two chapters, I hope to be able to move on. Spot fans: he'll be coming up soon, I promise. But again, it'll be after I get out of the movie.**

**I've been doing some research, so parts are accurate. But then again, I haven't had much time, so not everything is completely historical. **

**Lemme know whatcha think.  
**


	3. Chapter 3: Victory

**To borrow the term, my plot bunnies are breeding like crazy. I've written two and a half chapters today. This chapter is a bit longer because I finish out the movie here. Rice isn't in here much, so my Rice fan's... you'll just have to wait until the next chapter!  
**

**Thank you for the reviews! You guys are awesome!**

* * *

The sky was just beginning to gray when the first newsboys began to creep up to the World's Distribution Office. Slinking through the streets, they found a single open window. Peering inside, it was possible to see David, Sarah, Denton and Jack hard at work. Printing, cleaning, bundling, tying. The night had been long and exhausting. Strain showed on every feature. Yet there was a certain sense of pride as the first bundle was handed over. Bundle after bundle was passed through the window as the sky lightened. Thousands of papers were to be distributed. The strike for children's rights was prepared to launch one final assault on the tyrants of New York City. Stop the strike, the mighty men once cried. Yet during the shouts, a single voice said No. We will fight till the end. Join us, come, join us. 

One voice was joined by another, and another until it became a hundred, and then a thousand. And no one, not even Joseph Pulitzer or William Randolph Hearst could silence the roar of children crying for justice. The single ripple of outrage was growing. Soon, a tsunami would crash against the streets of New York. A tsunami by the name of the Newsies Banner.

* * *

Denton wiped the sweat from his head as he handed a final bundle out to Jack to be loaded onto the "borrowed" distribution cart. 

"Awfully nice of Mr. Pulitzer to let us use his press," he said with a touch of smugness. Jack laughed quietly as he grabbed the stack of papers.

"Yeah, I just hope I getta thank him for it someday." He climbed away from the window and placed the last bundle on top of the others. Jack pulled himself up beside Sarah as Denton crawled into the driver's seat. The cart gave a jerk and the foursome pulled away from the Distribution Office with a sense of pride. Everywhere they went, they handed out another stack to a waiting newsie. The sun peaked through the building. The day had begun.

With three bundles of papers remaining, David, Sarah, and Jack each grabbed one, intent on distributing their own creation. As they set off in different directions, Denton caught up with David.

"Let me see one of those papers, David," he said with a deep voice. "I have an idea." David shrugged and handed a copy to Denton. Denton looked at it for a moment with a smile of self-reflection on his face before clapping David on the back.

"We _will_ win, David." With that, he jogged back to the distribution cart and drove away.

* * *

"Take this. Can you read, too? Alright, you take a copy." David handed out papers to every child he could find on the streets already buzzing with the early morning child workers. As he turned around, he spotted a shoe sticking out from behind a barrel. He made his way across the street to see if it could be another potential ally. As he drew nearer, however, a feeling of familiarity came over the shoe and leg attached to it. 

"Les!" David groaned with frustration. "What are you doing?" Les jerked, and rubbing his eyes looked up at his older brother.

"David! I was just," Les stifled a yawn and finished sheepishly. "Sorry. I was just so tired, from all that walking last night, you know?"

"Have you gone home since yesterday, kid?" David asked, suspiciously.

"No! I promise!"

"And you were walking all last night?"

"Yes!"

"Then why are your shoes still clean?" Les realized he was trapped.

"Because, um, I kind of fell asleep last night before I'd really told anybody," he mumbled pitifully. "And I came to tell you, and you were in such a good mood and just handed me a bundle, so I guessed they all found out on their own because I met some more newsies and…"

"Les, stop talking," David instructed. "You did good enough and I'm not going to kill you for falling asleep- twice." _Not yet anyway._

"Oh, good. Because I only told one person, and he was really weird. I thought he was a guy, but then his voice was all girly and he knew my name and told me to be careful and asked where you were and…"

David toned his little brother out as he continued down the street. The battle cry of "Carrying the Banner" echoed through the alleys. David shielded his eyes and saw Boots climbing down a fire escape happily after throwing his entire pile in the air.

"Thank you, Boots," David said with a fake smile.

"Ah, that's alright. I'll help youse out any time youse needs it," the small warrior replied marching down the street. David shook his head in annoyance and started to reach for some banners to continue distributing when he realized that he wasn't the only one. The city was just waking to greet the day. Shopkeepers and early risers walked about the streets and lifted the papers from the ground. Reading. And looking thoughtful. Some looked angry, some sad, some pitying. David reached and pulled his whistling brother away from the alley where the papers were first thrown. It was time to move on.

* * *

The sun, so welcoming only hours before, now beat mercilessly on the gathered newsies heads. The early afternoon sun left little shade for Horace Greeley to grant. 

"So when's the other's comin' Kid?" Mush asked his friend, louder than he intended.

"They ain't comin'. It ain't gonna be nobody but us," Jack replied dejectedly, walking up to the pair. David's arm was slung over his sister's shoulder. He watched Jack closely. The others had been more than willing to let Jack back into the circle. _Stupid charisma._

Les watched the desolation growing in his older friends' faces. He wondered if he could remind them of why they started the strike in the first place. Who cared if it was only them? They'd still beat it! Who cares if Denton had vanished first thing that morning? Who cared if they were fighting the most powerful men in New York? They had their rights!

"_When the circulation bell starts ringing, will we hear it?"_ He sang out, hoping that somebody- anybody! would take up his cry. To his great relief, Racetrack had followed him away from the crowd. Les knew he always liked that kid.

"Nah," Race replied, taking off his hat to wipe the July sweat away. He looked back at Les and sang, _"What if the Delancey's come out swinging, will we hear it?"_

"No!" The others smiled at the pair, and slowly came to gather around. David felt a stab of sympathy for his younger brother. No matter what, the kid always hoped. David wished that he…

_"When you got a million voices singing who can hear a lousy whistle blow?_" The excitement around David exploded as the newsies saw seemingly hundreds of thousands of people marching toward the statue. _"And the World will know!"_

Voices. Everywhere. Laughing, shouting, crinkling. Crinkling? In nearly every hand, a copy of the Newsie Banner was clenched with pride. Somewhere, the chant of "strike" began. The little ripple in a pond of newsboys had escalated. The tsunami was here. Beat that, Pulitzer, David thought as he followed Jack. Beat that.

"Dear me, what have we here?" Race broke the joyous excitement. Seitz, Pulitzer's editor-in-chief stood at the entrance of the World. He looked across the crowd and made eye contact with David and Jack. The boys looked at each other.

"Well, Jack.," David said with a thin voice, "It's Judgment Day." Jack smiled weakly, and the pair pushed there way to where certain death waited.

* * *

"Ya ready for this?" Jack muttered. 

"Ready for what? The guillotine? Prison?" David replied in the same manner.

"There's a difference?" The moment was so tense that even the lame joke made both work hard to hold back the sudden laughter. Seitz glared at the boys, but then his expression softened.

"You've done good, boys," he spoke so quietly that they nearly missed his words. David and Jack looked up in shock as the door to Pulitzer's study swung open. A tall, skinny man shuffled quickly over to Seitz and spoke quickly, looked shocked at what words had just fallen out of his mouth and quickly shut the offending body part. The air was thick with the scent of Pulitzer's cigars. Jack cleared his throat and walked unsteadily toward the man who gave little notice in return.

"Extry, extry, Joe. Read all about it." Mr. Pulitzer slowly lifted the unfolded paper Jack laid on the desk before him and examined it.

"I promised that if you defied me, I would break you." The words were addressed to Jack, but the owner of the World's eyes were still fixated on the paper before him. He glanced up to stare at Jack. "I gave you the chance to be free, now I don't understand this. Anyone who does not act in his own self-interest is a fool."

David broke through with disbelief. "Then what does that make you?"

Pulitzer looked about in surprise as David walked forward. "What? What? Who is that?"

Jack introduced his friend. "This is my pal David, the Walkin' Mouth."

David ignored him and continued with his rant. "Ever since the strike your circulation's been down seventy percent. Every day you're losing thousands of dollars, just to beat us out of one lousy tenth of a cent. Why?" Jack smirked.

"See, it's not about the money, Dave," the other boy said, though he was really speaking for Pulitzer's benefit. "See, if Joe gives in to nobodies like us, it shows we've got the power. And you can't have that, now, can ya Joe?"

Pulitzer had regained his composure and now sat stoically smoking. "I've sent for the police. They should be here by now. Send them in Seitz, send them in." David and Jack pushed themselves away from the gigantic desk in frustration.

"Y'know I'm not going back to jail, Joe," Jack exclaimed, walking to the window and throwing it open. "Look out here, right out here is where the power is!"

As the shouts of the city raced into the opening, Joe's features were visibly shaken as he and Jack argued vehemently for an instant. Finally, sense broke through and Jack screamed at the old man.

"That's the power of the press!"

"Just shut the window and shut up!" Pulitzer threw himself in his chair while Jack pulled the window shut. In the silence that ensued, Jack leaned over to the tyrant.

"And I just wanna say, thanks for teaching me about it." Jack breathed heavily. Then, for the second time that day, Seitz surprise the newsies.

"Those kids put out a pretty good paper, there, Chief." Pulitzer ignored his right hand man as a new issue came to light in his mind.

"I ordered a printing ban on all strike matters. Who's press did you use to print this? Who's? Who's?" The final words were more of a shout than a simple accusation. Once again silence reigned as Jack leaned over once more.

"We only use the best, Joe. So just wanna say," he paused for the true effect to ring through. "Thanks again."

David felt a smile grow on his face as he watched Pulitzer's expression turn to one of complete horror. Pulitzer lay his copy of the newsie banner down and with a still open mouth nodded for chairs to be brought. Jack and David sat down across from the fallen king.

"How can I help you boys?" Pulitzer spoke like a man in a dream.

* * *

David was still in awe as he walked weakly out the distribution gates. Spot looked like a caged tiger, waiting to pounce. His cool eyes flicked over David as he signaled the others to come join. They gathered around him, asking for Jack. _Still Jack. Of course there's no way _I_ could have won the strike_, he thought bitterly, even though he knew it was true. Mouth turned his head back toward the gates, the focus on him being lost in an instant as Jack walked through them. The boys had paused before coming outside to talk and agreed that Les needed to have some part of the victory. "After all," Jack had rationalized, "it was he who really started the strike." David realized that this would make Les a permanent ally for Francis Sullivan. 

Now, as Cowboy pushed his way to the little boy, the quietness of the formerly bursting street seemed just as deafening. Whispers of curiosity flowed around David. His head was spinning. Jack Kelly leaned over and quietly spoke in Les's ear. A huge smile broke across the child's face as he was lifted onto Cowboy's shoulders. Everyone was tense, looking at the pair. Jack couldn't hold in the news any longer. A smile burst across his own face as he shouted.

"We beat it!" It truly did seem like a tidal wave ran across the square. Shouts and laughter rang out. People were jumping and dancing. It seemed like there was no end of the joy. A rush of energy wept by David and the scent of sweat assaulted his infamous mouth and nostrils. Such noise! So many people!

Les had been laughing and joking with the rest, but suddenly looked frightened from his perch atop the world. "Jack, Jack! Lemme down! Lemme down Jack, it's the bulls!" He jumped off of Kelly's shoulders and both turned to run. Denton appeared out of nowhere. _Wonder where he came from_, David thought as he heard the journalist speak.

"It's over, Jack!" Jack gave him a look wondering why on earth he was being held back if things were so dim. Denton saw his confusion and finished, "No, no, no. You don't have to run anymore. Not from the likes of him." He pushed the reluctant teen toward Synder's carriage. As they moved, the back opened, and one by one, young Refuge victims hopped out. As Synder was led to the back, a final boy climbed out.

"Crutchy!" The boy ignored his friends for the moment as he spoke with first Synder, and then the officer in the back of the prison carriage. He smirked and slammed the door shut behind the former warden.

David wandered away from the crowd of people, spotting his siblings standing alone by a wall. Sarah gave him a hug when he arrived. Les leaned against his older brother contentedly as they watched the unfolding drama. The governor was greeting people. David paused for a moment before having a vague recollection of Denton mentioning charging up San Juan Hill with Col. Teddy Roosevelt. _Our current governor_, David mused. _I wonder if that's where Denton disappeared to this morning._ A gasp beside him jerked Mouth out of his thoughts. He glanced at Sarah and saw tears filling her eyes. A sniff below him alerted Mouth to the fact his little brother was no longer dry eyed either. He looked about again and saw with a shock that Jack had climbed into the governor's carriage. He caught the words "train yards" being passed along the still jubilant crowd.

_And he's on a train that's bound for Santa Fe. Still a traitor._ David thought angrily. Jack looked at the trio for a long moment as the carriage pushed it's way through the crowded streets. David pushed himself away from his family and began walking to the distribution office. It was nearly time for the evening edition.

_Try Bottle Ally or the Harbor. Try Central Park, it's guaranteed. _More boys joined him on the quest for the line._ Try any banker, bum, or barber. They almost all knows how to read._ David smiled. Jack was gone, but they would live on._ Summer stinks and winter's waiting! Welcome to New York! Boy ain't nature fascinating when you's gotta work?_ David twirled a quarter around and slammed it in front of the new distributor.

"Fifty papes." The man smiled and handed Mouth his merchandise. The other boys shouted their approval. "Thank you."

A cheer rose up from a long way off, growing closer. David turned around in time to see Teddy Roosevelt's carriage come around the corner. Mush's face lit up with excitement.

"He's back! He's back!" More confusion arrived as Jack climbed out of the carriage. He looked at the Walking Mouth.

"So how's the headline today?" David smiled, recalling his first lesson. "Headlines don't sell papes," he adjusted his hat as he spoke. "Newsies sell papes." The crowd cheered again as David walked down the stairs and handed his papes off. _He has passion. So do you. Combine what you know, and you'll be 'unstoppable'. _Rice's words resounded in David's brain as he bravely spat in his hand to welcome back his friend. He stepped back as he watched Sarah push her way through the crowd. David raised his eyebrows as Jack leaned in and passionately kissed his sister. A hand reached through the crowd and touched his own. Mouth glanced around. Rice stood only feet away, but was quickly pushed forward until she stood almost on top of his feet. David grinned at her.

"I blame you. This is all your fault, you know." He shouted at her. She laughed and gave him a hug. David felt a slight chill and chided himself. _You don't need to like a girl. You shouldn't like a girl. Besides, if you start liking this girl, there's no way you can get after Sarah tonight for her little "display"._ Mouth laughed and hugged Rice right back. Jack spun around and saw the two friends embracing, but raised his own eyebrows in astonishment. David shook his head to dispel any suspicions. Jack gave a knowing nod that Mouth knew meant he didn't believe it at all. Then, Cowboy threw back his head and shouted.

"Victory celebration at Medda's!" He grabbed David by the arm and dragged him along. Walking beside his family and the man who kicked off trouble, David felt like there was something in him that had changed. As he fought his way through the people, Mouth looked up and saw Spot speaking to the governor and climbing in his carriage.

_Spot riding in the governor's carriage? I wonder what's next. Man on the moon?_ David chuckled at his own idiocy and led the march to Medda's.

* * *

**You know the drill by now. Please review. The next chapter is going to be totally original, because the movie's done with. And Orange Socks and Polka Dots? You think Rice knows a lot now? Wait and see my friends... it's gonna throw some of you for a loop!**


	4. Chapter 4: The Celebration

**It's a shorter one, but I'm kind of fond of it. It's frusterating trying to tell Rice's story without giving too much away too early. But I think you'll like what's happening- it's kind of breaking stereotypes. Tell me what you think!**

* * *

It was a glorious march through the streets of the greatest city on the earth. The underdogs had triumphed and were at no unease about showing the world. Thousands of voices mingled together as the victors paired and split, wandering in hundreds of directions. While many of the workers went on their own paths, the newsies of New York proudly followed Theodore Roosevelt's carriage to Medda's vaudeville.

David walked beside his "family" with a smile on his face. As he watched the governor pull to a stop in front of the theater, David was struck by the fact that he had no idea how the other boroughs had even known about the strike.

"Wonder who told 'em."

"What's that?" Jack asked at the utterance. David realized he'd spoken aloud.

"Just wondering how Brooklyn and the rest knew that we were regrouping. Did you send someone?"

"Nah. But I wouldn't worry 'bout it too much. At least they's came, right, Davey?" Jack punched his friend lightly in the arm. David shook his head and continued the journey into the theater. Kid Blink popped up beside him.

"Did I hea' one a ya's ask who told Brooklyn?" David looked at the blond next to him.

"Yeah. Do you know anything?"

"Sure! Same poisen dat tol' us ta get da papes from yous guys. Said somebody needed ta tell da odders. So me and Mush started sendin' dem am-bastards ova ta dem odder places."

_Same miraculous hero_, David thought to himself as the crowd surged through the open doors and began filling in seats. As he watched the newsies gather round in excitement, the curious feelings quickly faded into a feeling of suffocation. He wanted to celebrate. But not here in the crowds of soon to be intoxicated children. At home, with his parents, Les, Sarah, Jack, and even Denton was where he wanted to be. And what about finding Rice? She was really the one responsible for getting things moving again after Jack scabbed. Anything, as long as he was away from this crowd. Sure, he could be a people person, but a guy can only take so much. Perfect.

"Hey, Jack…"

* * *

A great feeling of ecstasy was on the rampage as the newsies passed around drinks and congratulations. It felt like all of New York's lower class finest were in attendance. Rice lounged in a corner, watching with a feeling of amusement. She plucked at a pale blue string on her dress hem as she took in the scene laying before her. A black boy sat next to her, chattering away excitedly. She paid him little heed until he finally stopped to draw a breath. Seizing her chance, she interrupted his monologue.

"Who's the giant?" Rice inquired of Boots, nodding at the scrawny boy working his way up to the stage. She couldn't see his face, but could tell that even though the boy was small, he had an aura of power surrounding him. It seemed like the Red Sea parting before Moses as he moved: a path seemed to part magically in front as people took steps backward, sometimes at the pains of the others behind them.

"Giant?" Boots followed her gaze. His face showed momentary panic, but quickly faded into a neutral mode. "That, my dear Rice, would be Brooklyn," he finished in a slightly higher pitch.

"Brooklyn? I asked who he was- not where he was from."

"He's Brooklyn. His name is Spot Conlon, but really, it's just a cinnamon for Brooklyn," Boots informed her knowledgably. Rice caught herself just in time not to laugh out loud and trained her face into a straight line while successfully attempting not to choke on her drink.

"If he's a 'synonym' for Brooklyn…" Rice trailed off as the boy finally turned around. His eyes flicked across the room, surveying it as a king would his kingdom. Just for an instant, they met her own.

"Dividend," she whispered to herself in awe. Her mind blanked as she stared at the young man before her. After a moment of stunned thought, she quietly began to sing as she watched her former best friend give a rousing speech of victory.

_It seems like just yesterday_

_That you waved to me goodbye_

_Friends until the end you said_

_And vanished like you'd died_

_I didn't know what happened_

_When you'd gone away_

_I moved on with my life_

_Never forgetting the things you'd say_

_You and me_

_Sitting on the stairway_

_Laughing_

_At inside jokes_

_You and me_

_Running through the alleyway_

_And wondering_

_If it would stay that way forever_

_I cried on your shoulder, _

_You cried on mine too_

_We shared secrets_

_Like best friends should do_

_Together we'd be_

_Just you and me_

_Forever_

The roar of applause greeted Spot as he clambered off the makeshift platform. Not a bad victory speech, if he did say so himself. Jacky-boy should have been the one up there, but of course, he was off with his new family. _Family_._ As if._ Spot shook his head, attempting to clear the memories that collided in his head. He opened his eyes and looked across the room. A pair of blue-green eyes stared back at him. A pair of woman's eyes. Woman's eyes? Spot looked away quickly, searching his memory while pretending to be seeking a friend. Why were those eyes familiar? It was something, deep in his past… His most painful memory came to surface, as he remembered a year, not so long ago. The only way he'd survived the death of his brother was because of his best friend.

"Harmony," the name fell off his tongue in revelation. Pushing his way down the stairs, the simple tune continued in his own head as he attempted to reach the girl from his past.

_It seems like just yesterday_

_We'd held each other in comfort_

_Friends till the end, we'd said_

_And parted once again_

_I never saw you after_

_I'd always wondered_

_But I'd had to move on_

_Always wondering if you were there_

_You and me_

_Sitting on the stairway_

_Laughing_

_At inside jokes_

_You and me_

_Running through the alleyway_

_And wondering_

_If it would stay that way forever_

_I cried on your shoulder, _

_You cried on mine too_

_We shared secrets_

_Like best friends should do_

_Together we'd be_

_Just you and me_

_Forever_

Rice couldn't breathe. She'd known that it was possible. She'd even hoped it would happen! But she didn't expect… not now. She didn't think that he would be King of Brooklyn. That day at the rally- wasn't he just a representative? How could he be the leader? He was her Dividend!

"Rice," Boots asked, sounding unsure. Rice glanced up, and realized to her horror that she'd been speaking out loud. "Y'okay? Y'need me to go find Davey or Jack or somebody?"

"Somebody call?" David emerged from the crowd, grinning. Rice glanced up, an odd expression lighting her face. She bit her lip and bolted for the door. David looked at Boots.

"Was it something I said?"

"I dunno, Davey. It was real weird. One second, we was sitting here talkin', and the next she just started mutterin' to herself. Somethin' about not knowin' it was possible, and Brooklyn, and Dividin' or sumptin' like that."

"What were you talking about?"

"Well, she'd jus' asked me who Spot Conlon was and then boom! Off she goes."

"Spo…? I gotta go," the words had barely left David's mouth before he was running after Rice.

* * *

_Stupid people._ It was impossible to move. Medda's hall seemed to be crawling with cheering newsies. _Rice… where are you?_ There! A flash of a blue dress caught the corner of Mouth's eye. Rice was pushing her way out of a hallway door. _Move people. Celebrate somewhere else._ A seemingly infinite time later, David fell through the same door, slamming it shut behind him. He sucked in a breath of fresh air, grateful that the jamboree was being contained on the other side of the wall. Hidden behind a curtain just a bit down the hall, he could hear the sounds of hyperventilating breaths. _I guess that's one way to be "just around the corner" of my eye. _

"Rice?" He asked cautiously, hoping the bulge in the cloth was the girl he was searching for. "Rice?" David pulled back the curtain to reveal a red-faced teen in a pale blue dress, crouched on the floor, sobbing. He reached down and pulled Rice to her feet.

"Hey, now. It'll be okay," he continued awkwardly. The Walking Mouth was speechless. He didn't know how to deal with crying girls. That was why his last girlfriend had broken off their relationship._ Focus, David. This is Alison, not Danielle. _David wrapped his arms around Rice's shuddering body and held her as she beat on his chest with her palm. Muffled words drifted up from the curtain of straight brown hair, unintelligible sentences masked by cries.

"Not fair… supposed to be… how could I… stupid… of course… just because… past… death… friends… always… moved… back… report… can't… too hard…"

With a shudder, she finally relaxed. Rice looked up at David with tear-stained cheeks. He gave her a half smile, still unsure about what to do… or say. What _could_ he say? He couldn't even understand what she'd just spoken in her tantrum. She looked back at him for a moment.

"Well… I just came to tell you that some of us were going to my folk's and wanted to know if you were interested in coming," David shot out. Rice smiled, and opened her mouth. Suddenly, her eyes grew wide and she looked at Mouth in horror.

"I can't believe I just said all that!"

"Said all what?"

"When I was crying… and you were holding me… and… how much did you hear?" she demanded in an accusing tone. David shook his head.

"Not much. Something about death and stupid and not fair. I really couldn't understand what you were saying." Rice visibly let tension flow out of her body.

"You're sure you heard nothing rational?"

"Nothing," David reassured her. "Now, what about coming and meeting my friends?" Rice shook her head.

"I appreciate it, David, I do. But I really need to get moving. I have a lot to get done tonight."

"Like what? And when are you going to have that "real" talk with me that you promised?"

"Soon, Mouth. Name the time and place, and I'll be there."

"My house, right now," David spoke without even pausing to think. Rice smiled pityingly.

"Sorry, Mouth. But I really do have things to do. But give me a _different_ time and place, and I'll make sure nothing else comes up." David sighed.

"And besides," she continued, "I promised I'd talk to _you_, not your friends and family."

"You know, I really don't know why I even care. Sure, you know too much for my taste. Sure, you seem to know how to show up randomly. Sure, you break out into tears at the sight of Spot Conlon, and…" Mouth stopped as he realized Rice was laughing at him.

"It wasn't that funny," he pouted. But a smile pushed at the corners of his mouth. "All right. You've got me. I'm curious. Saturday, 1:00, Horace Greeley."

"It's a deal." To David's surprise, she spit in her hand and held it out for him. He spit in his own and shook with an incredulous look on his face.

"What? Didn't you think a girl could do that?" Rice taunted him before backing away from his proximity. "I'll be there. And if you're not… we'll have to see if I'm willing to give you a second chance." She left him pondering her words and walked out onto the darkening street.

* * *

_That was really smooth, you know that, Rice?_ Alison mentally slapped herself. _And now you're even using the nickname he gave you. Just what do you think you're going to do? Tell him everything? That Spot was more than just a neighbor and random kiss? The reasons you know everything about everybody? Why you know every newsie in every borough except Brooklyn? Why you talk like some "high-falutin' girl? Why you're living on the streets when you have your own family back in Boston? Why you're long discussion can only last for less than a half hour?_ Then, in an even quieter inside voice, a further question resounded in the corner of her soul._ Why you're just using him?_

_

* * *

_

**And yes, you read that last question correctly. (slips into radio announcer mode) "Why you're just using him?" What is she talking about? Stay tuned to discover more on Rice's Secrets. **

**Please review!**_  
_


	5. Chapter 5: Rice's Past

**Hmm... I'm not sure I like this chapter much. It reveals a lot about Rice and her past. Just... I don't know. Tell me what you think by reviewing, por favor.**

**The line at the end is from Victor Hugo's novel, Les Miserables. I don't own it, nor do I own anything you recognize. Rice and the plot line are my own.**

* * *

Saturday dawned like any other day. The sun's rays were welcoming after a cold night, but after only hours, the welcome was overstayed. Heat radiated of off the very cobblestones, and shade offered no relief. Life was slowly returning to normal as the newsies hawked the headlines of all papers on the streets. David had bought only 75 papes that morning. His day would be occupied at 1:00 by a certain stranger, and the Mouth wanted to be sure he was punctual.

After selling his share, Mouth entrusted Les to Racetrack for the afternoon. He went to Tibby's and bought a sandwich to eat on his walk back to the statue. A glance at the clock informed him that 12:45 was the time and if he ever wanted to learn Rice's story, he'd better get a move on. Excitedly, David hastened his pace to reach the statue of Horace Greeley. As he approached, he was astonished to find Rice already relaxing with her eyes closed against the man's base. With a smirk, David quietly made his way around to the opposite side and climbed carefully up onto the cement. He crawled across and placed his feet down carefully so they resided on either side of Rice's head, mimicking the position she'd been in on the day they first met. The girl heaved a sigh and looked outward. She jumped visibly at the sight of an extra shadow passing by her and glanced up. A slightly perturbed expression wrinkled her face.

"You're early."

David grinned. "A little bird told me if I was late, I'd never get the chance to hear a remarkable tale again."

"Do you believe everything you hear?"

"Of course not!" David exclaimed offended. "Just most things. For example, I would never believe it if you told me the earth was square."

Rice had a look of mock horror on her face. "You mean it isn't? But I was sure… O! the horrors of mine life to spend an eternity believing that the earth was a cube. And now, thou tellist me that it is not? What a cruel world thou hast set before me! A joke of mankind!" David laughed.

"And she attempts to speak in Shakespeare."

"To be or not to be…"

"That is the question…"

"'tis nobler that something something something. That's all I've bothered to memorize from that particular work. Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?"

"It is Juliet! And… I'm afraid I've never read the rest of that 'particular work'."

"Doest thou mockest me, kind sir?"

"Nay, dear girl. Only in merry jest."

"'tis one in the same, my good fellow."

"Only if thou believes it thus, good lady." David bowed gallantly, and Rice swept out her skirt in a fine attempt of a curtsy. Both looked up at each other, silently shaking with laughter. Rice was the first to fail in the silent contest and allowed a giggle through. Within seconds, both were wiping tears from their eyes. After several minutes as such, the humor subsided, leaving a peaceful contentment in it's wake.

"Shall we?" David offered his arm. Rice accepted, and they mockingly strolled away from the square. Mouth watched Rice with his peripheral vision. Any hint that only days before she had been hysterically sobbing was erased. She walked with poise and had a gentle smile on her face as she examined the world around her. An oddity intrigued David. Rice seemed far more interested in the people of lower class than the city, the stores, or the formal population. She seemed fascinated by their ways of life, even though it was obvious by the tatters and dirt on her dress that she too slept on the cobblestones at night.

Rice likewise was studying the boy beside her. He had manners of a real gentleman and had been brought up well. His overall attitude exhibited a caring intelligence that was not found in most boys his age. She had seen that while David was determined to a fault, it was possible he could be swayed if there was a slight fracture in his wall of enmity. Rice's arm rested lightly on David's, and she was slightly astounded by the solid nature of her companion. Strong and sturdy in all his ways, both physical and emotional. Impressed, Rice turned her thoughts in another direction as Central Park rose up before the couple.

"David…" she began as he also spoke.

"When are you…" Both paused awkwardly. Rice nibbled on her fingernail as she nodded at David to finish his statement.

"I was just going to ask when you were going to start telling me your story."

"Ask questions. I'll give answers. It'll be up to you to determine if they are real or not." Mouth looked startled at her honesty. "What?" she continued, "Did you think I'd give you my entire life after only knowing you for days?" David tilted his head and smirked.

"Fair enough. Okay, first question. Do you have a family?"

"No," she answered bluntly. "My family is dead." David looked uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It wasn't your fault the fire started and killed them all." The air was tense. David didn't know what to say.

"If you don't mind, what were they like?" A smile flitted across Rice's face as she drifted away from the present. She was living in the past as she spoke.

"My parents owned a small bakery in Vermont. Father was the business, Mother was the cook. They loved their work, but always wanted large family. It didn't happen though. My sister, Elizabeth, and I were the only children. We didn't have much, but we had each other. Mother made sure we knew how to read and write. She was always learning something new Even though her father had immigrated from Germany, he and Grandmother died before my mother could learn any of her native language. She was adopted by my Nana and Papa. English, through and through. They allowed Mother to explore anything she was curious about, including the art of the kitchen. When Mother was 10, she set out to master French and was fascinated by the way the words could roll off her tongue. One day, however, a traveler from Spain came to her little town and showed her how to do the Spanish dances. Mother was thirsty for more knowledge of that beautiful land and began to learn the language. When she died, she was in the process of discovering her native language of German, but knew very little."

David smiled encouragingly. "What about your father? Your sister?"

"Father was a true gentleman. He could do sums and such like nothing you've ever seen. But even though he had incredible intelligence, he was humble and quiet about it. I think that was mostly because Grandfather and Grandmother wanted him to work the land like they had. That wasn't where Father's heart was, though. His younger brother took over the family farm, and his sister married into a farming family. It broke them when Father didn't follow the love of the land. He was disowned, and left to make his own way in life. I've never met that part of my family.

Elizabeth was my best friend. She was pretty and kind and everything a big sister should be. We were as close as family can be. Lizzie was engaged, and it would have killed me to have her so close, and yet so far. It was almost for the best that the death came about, because then I'd never have to see her grow old." Rice's voice settled into a melancholy mode.

"Next question?" Rice startled David out of his contemplative thoughts. David shook his head, attempting to drag himself back to reality. Finally, he asked cautiously, "Do you mind if I go into some more personal questions?"

"You can ask, but I can't guarantee that I'll give you the full truth," Rice responded. _Like that last answer? You're family is dead? Jinx them, why don't you?_

"How do you know Spot? I'd presumed he'd lived in New York his whole life, and you claimed you lived in Vermont." Rice looked at David oddly.

"What are you talking about, Mouth? I've never met Spot Conlon before."

"But…"

"Oh! You mean that first day we met when I said he was David Matthews? Well, that's who I thought he was. You see, I did have a neighbor by that name who was my first kiss, but he certainly wasn't Spot Conlon!" Rice laughed as though at an inside joke. _Liar, liar, liar…_ "The two had just enough resemblance that from a distance, I did believe the boys were one in the same. But no, I do not know Spot Conlon."

Mouth nodded. Her explanation made sense. But what if she was ly… _Jacobs, you are far too suspicious for your own good. All of her answers fit. Why shouldn't she be telling the truth?_

"And about Skittery," he continued in his third-degree, "how do you know about him?"

_Finally, one I can answer completely truthfully._ "That's an easy question. When I first arrived in New York," _Well, maybe not the _complete_ truth_, "I accidentally ran into Skittery, quite literally. I apologized to him, but was met only with a scowl. I begged his name and began to use it whenever I thought of a rather unpleasant or sour personality. Since that first meeting, I've had several other unfortunate run-ins with Mr. Happy." David fought to control the smile spilling out over his face. Rice reached into her threadbare pocket and pulled out an old pocket watch.

"A gift from my father," she replied to the unspoken question. Flicking it open, Rice examined the clock face. An abrupt change came over her as panic set in.

"It's almost two o'clock! I'm late!" Rice started to run, but Mouth caught her arm.

"What's wrong, Rice?"

"I'm sorry, David, really I am. But I _have_ to go! It's… never mind. Goodbye!" Rice jerked her arm free and, continuing with the tradition, disappeared into the crowd, leaving David staring after her like he'd seen a phantom.

_Then again, maybe that's what she is._ David frowned, and wandered through the city to find his little brother.

* * *

Rice arrived at the servants door of the O'Connor mansion at five after two. She blessed her lucky stars that David had pulled her in the correct direction in order to allow her to arrive nearly on time. Raising her hand, she shakily knocked. Rice kneeled over her knees and breathed quickly, trying to calm her speeding heart from the sprint she had raced. An official sounding voice sounded through the door.

"Whom do you seek, lad or lass, to enter through the servant's wing?"

"Jacob Riis has sent me, Michael, as you know well. Please, allow me to see your master."

The ugly wooden door opened to reveal a grand kitchen. An elderly gentleman stood, attempting to appear stately.

"Young Miss Alison, I'm afraid you are late today. Did you run into problems along the way?"

"You could say it that way," Alison muttered. In a louder voice, she asked, "Am I too late?"

Michael, the elderly butler, shook his head. "No, but if you do not rush, you will be." Alison smiled and kissed the man on his cheek. "Thank you, Michael." With the gesture completed, she ran to a cabinet in the corner of the room and opened it to allow entrance to a hidden stairway. She clambered up the stairs as quickly and quietly as she could, rather unsuccessful on both accounts. Finally, she opened another door at the top, toppling into an august study. The man sitting behind the desk looked up at her with a touch of annoyance.

"Miss Alison, must you be so loud when you are late?"

"I'm sorry Mr. O'Connor, but you do need to get better lighting in that stairwell. It's dark as night when the doors are closed, and you have so many knickknacks hidden in there, of course I'm liable to trip!"

Mr. O'Connor stroked his dark gray beard and studied her. "Well?" he asked. Alison sighed. "Must I?" Without an answer, the middle-aged man continued to stare at her. With a grumble, Alison complied.

"Mr. O'Connor, I beseech you on behalf of your good friend Mr. Jacob Riis to allow me to examine any news from the grand city of Boston. The good uncle of mine has informed me that you are a kind and generous man and will allow us the use of your home for our correspondence." The words rattled off her tongue as they had many times before.

"Now, Mr. O'Connor, may I please have my mail before your company arrives? You know it would tarnish your reputation to have an unaccompanied female in your study." Mr. O'Connor released a sigh of his own.

"Quite right, young lady. That is why I must insist you arrive on time. If you weren't Jacob Riis' niece… But no matter. Yes, you may have your letters." The man reached into his drawer and pulled out three letters, all addressed to a Mr. O'Connor. On the back, however, each had the letters MAR inscribed on the lower left hand corner. Miss Alison Riley.

Mr. O'Connor raised his eyebrows. Quickly, Alison sank into a clumsy curtsy, thanked the gentleman, and dashed down the stairs, now hidden behind a bookcase. As she burst through the kitchen entrance, a doorbell rang at the front door. True to form, the butler smiled and winked at the unkempt lass and nodded his head toward the back door while working his way to the front. Alison quickly made her way out the servants entrance, excusing herself from the gigantic home.

_Finally, news from home._ Alison smiled at the letters from her uncle, parents, and sister as her feet followed their usual haunting grounds. A flicker of guilt passed as Alison recalled leaving David standing in the street, but the feeling was overcome by the excitement of news, and instructions.

Ripping open the note from Elizabeth first, Alison smiled at the first line.

_My dear little sister,_

_Patrick Jr. is doing marvelously. He's looking so much like his papa, may he rest in peace…_

* * *

Spot Conlon was angry at himself. He wasn't even sure why. _It's not your fault she took off  
before you reached her. You're not even sure she _was_ Harmony. Little Alison. It's been, what? Five years? Six? You've both changed. She probably didn't recognize you. Then again, it might not have been her._ Spot continued, arguing with his thoughts._ But those eyes! You unlucky fool. Of course it was Harmony. But why didn't she come to find you? Did she think you were dead? Did she hate you? _A peeked to the surface of Spot's mind, coming to surface after being hidden for over half a decade. 

**The night sky was cloudy as 11-year-old David Matthews paced the fire escape outside of Alison Riley's bedroom window. Summoning up his courage, he knocked lightly on the glass. After a few long seconds, a shadow appeared inside.**

**"Harmony, it's me."**

**"Dividend!" The harsh whisper betrayed the shock in the shock in the girl's voice. There was a sound of shuffling, and moments later, the pane was lifted to reveal the ten-year-old's face. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in Philadelphia! Did your family change their minds? Did you come with your mother? What…" **

**"Shh…" David lectured the younger female. "No, I didn't come with Mama. I never left. I couldn't do it, I couldn't leave Brooklyn. It's my home, and yours too. " Alison had avoided looking David in the eyes since he arrived, and now spoke with a said air in her voice.**

**"Not anymore, Dividend," she mumbled. With a sudden change in attitude, she faced the boy in front of her, eye meeting eye. "We're moving to Boston. Tomorrow."**

**David was taken aback by the look in her eyes. There was something… different about them. _Woman's eyes_, he realized, thinking back on the book Les Miserables. He was in such shock at the change in Alison that at first, her words bypassed him, but then…**

**"Moving? Tomorrow? Why?" His speech seemed to be coming from a great distance.**

**"The bakery is failing, Dividend. We can't afford to live in Brooklyn any longer. My mother's brother, Uncle Jacob, said we could come live with him. He said that Elizabeth and I could both go to school, and he'd help Father get back on his feet. It's all for the best."**

**Dividend couldn't find the right words to say. "But… Harmony…"**

**"It's Alison, now, David. I have to grow up. Things can't stay the way they were, reading on the stairway together, making up word games… It's all different now. Ever since your brother Patrick died, things have fallen apart. Lizzie cries herself to sleep every night, and sometimes, I hear her talking in her sleep about Pat and their engagement. In the mornings, she is always sick, and Mother has thrown all her efforts into learning German, hoping she can get out of this country. Father is just frozen. He doesn't know what to do anymore. He told me that he's seen your mother back here several times, searching for Patrick. In the three months since he died, our world, and yours, has fallen apart."**

**David didn't respond. He just looked at his best friend. Slowly, his face moved in towards hers until they were only a hands breadth apart. Ignoring her words, including the fact that his family searched for his dead brother, rather than him, he spoke quietly.**

**"I love you, Alison, my Harmony. And I will find you again someday. Never forget me." Alison watched the boy in awe as he leaned in further, nose touching her own. Closing his eyes, he gently pressed his young lips against hers. For an instant, they stood there on Harmony's fire escape, bathed in the moon that now shown her face upon Brooklyn, New York. David pulled away, just as slowly as he'd come.**

**"Until we meet again," he whispered, and swiftly climbed down the stairs. As he began to run through the once again darkened streets, a line from the Victor Hugo book resonated through his head.**

**_What Marius had just seen was no longer the naïve innocence of a child. It appeared that a mysterious gulf had suddenly opened halfway and then had abruptly slammed shut just as quickly. It has been said that there comes a day when a young girl has the eyes of a woman, and woe to the man who happens to catch her glance on that day!_**

****

* * *

**Well, that's the end of this chapter. Throw a few strange things at you? Whaddaya think? Review please._  
_**


	6. Chapter 6: A Meeting or Two

**Sigh I know. I know. This has taken forever. I'm sorry. Warning. This chapter has a bit of fluff, and Rice breaks down crying again. **

**I'm not sure if I like this much, but ah well. I've tried. My guess is after I get the entire story finished, I'll take it down, rewrite it, and publish it again.**

* * *

"Basements have water damage in upper Manhattan? What kind of headline is that?" David shoved the paper under Rice's nose. She pushed it away to see better.

"How about…" Rice replied thoughtfully, scanning the article, "'Floods destroy important artifacts, thousands of dollars to repair." David crinkled his eyebrows. She pointed to various paragraphs stating the loss of storage.

"Thousands of dollars? It says that everything in there was junk!" Rice grinned and pointed to another story on the same page talking about restoration of several lines of railway out west. David shook his head.

"You are _way_ too good at this."

"I only learn from the best." David smirked slightly as he continued to scan the newspaper. The last several days-weeks?- had all blurred together for him. Rice had again and again appeared mysteriously and the pair had spent quite a bit of time together, joking, teaching, and just plain talking. Much as he hated to admit it, she was more intriguing than just a new friend.

Rice grabbed another paper from Mouth's stack and looked over it as well. David's stomach was twisting as he continued debating with himself as he'd been doing for nearly two days. Shaking his head, he decided to plunge ahead with his weak plan.

"Rice?"

"Mmmh?" Rice's eyes never left the article she was examining. David paused, unsure of how to continue. _Here goes nothing._

"Would…wouldyouliketogotoMedda'swithmetomorrow?" He could have slapped himself._ Smooth, real smooth Mouth. Like she doesn't already think you're an idiot._ He had been staring intently at the cobblestones during his intelligent question, but at the lack of response from Rice, he hesitantly turned to look at her.

If David didn't know Rice any better, he would have thought that she hadn't heard the invitation. She gave no regard to David, and he was tempted to embarrassingly repeat the question. But on closer inspection, he saw that while she was still staring at the newspaper, her eyes weren't moving, and instead were fixated on a single point. After an eternity, a half smile appeared on her face, as though she was dubious of something.

"Sorry, what was that? I could have… um… I thought you just asked me to go to Medda's. With you." David swallowed.

"I did. I asked you to go to Medda's. With me." Rice's eyes hadn't moved from the article. David's breath was bated in fear: in anticipation. Then Rice looked up at him suspiciously. Seeing no lies, her smile grew wider.

"Okay." David gave a startled laugh.

"You will?" Rice shook her head, still smiling.

"No, David. I'm merely saying that to make you angry at me. Of course I'll go with you!" Rice jumped up from the bench the pair had been residing on. "Let's go. We've got papers to sell." David was happy for the change of subject.

"_We've?_ You're going to sell with me today?"

"Why not? You seem to have _so_ much fun coming up with your _own_ headlines. I figure that I wanna help you out today." It was David's turn to shake his head as he handed half of his papers over.

"You, dear Rice, now owe me two bits." Rice smirked at David as he handed her half of his papers.

"Rockefeller's nephew accused of murder!" she shouted. David glanced down at the headline regarding the young Rockefeller's latest hunting excursion and laughed.

* * *

"Mince, you go find that hat of yours. I've got some business to attend to," Spot informed his eccentric friend. Mince nodded and raised his hand in a mock salute. Spot's face was impassive at the greeting, so Mince meandered away to find his lost article.

Spot looked up at the Duane Street Lodging House, shielding his eyes against the bright sun. It was early enough that most newsies wouldn't be back from selling their papes yet. Spot had bought one hundred of the objects that morning in Brooklyn and sold while he walked with Mince to Manhattan, so he was unconcerned about his own financial situation. A merry whistle alerted Spot to the fact that the newsie he was looking for had arrived.

Lazily, Spot examined Boots as the chipper boy shuffled up to the building.

"Heya, Boots." The poor newsie jumped in fright at the sound of Brooklyn.

"Hiya, Spot. Need some more shooters? I can go get 'em, if you want."

"Now, Boots," Spot drawled, "I don't need any more marbles." Boots' face was pinched in mild anxiety.

"Oh? Then watcha here in Manhattan for?"

"I was walking with one of my boys. He left his hat here after the strike. Wanted it back, you see." Boots relaxed visibly.

"So," Spot continued casually, "you got a girl now, I see."

"Who, me?"

"No, the kid behind you." Boots cannot be blamed here if at this moment his eyes darted behind him to confirm there was no other being surrounding him. Finally, he responded.

"Nah, I ain't got no girl."

"Really? You looked pretty cozy with that gal at the victory celebration."

"Who, Rice? She's Davey's girl."

"The Walkin' Mouth?"

"That's the one. They're together all the time."

"So she's his girl?"

"I don't think so."

"Boots…" Spot sighed. "You just said…"

"Not like that!" Boots interrupted. "Davey's girl as in best friend."

"Like Jack and that Sarah girl?"

"Yeah!" Boots said obliviously. He was hot and tired of this conversation. Agreeing with everything was simpler. "Say, I'm going inside now."

Spot nodded his head shallowly in acknowledgment, deep in thought. _There is no way that's true. She can't be _David's_ girl._

* * *

"So then," Rice told David, gasping for breath, "this old lady comes up to me and says, 'oh you poor little darling. You look positively ill!' And I'm coughing away because of all that sawdust, remember? So she goes and buys my whole stock! She even told me to keep the change. She gave me a dollar for twenty papes!"

David chuckled at his friend's excursion, and proceeded to inform her about one of the first headlines he was told to shout out. "Baby born with three heads!" Rice giggled and leaned her head back against the brick wall behind her, closing her eyes. She and the Walking Mouth were attempting to get a respite from the sweltering summer heat. Their plan wasn't working so well as they were laughing to hard to cool down.

With a relaxed smile still on her face, Rice pried one eyelid open to examine the world surrounding her. Inhaling in surprise, she found herself being observed by a boy. David glanced at her.

"Y'alright, Rice?" he asked, unaware of the observer drawing nearer.

"I'm… I'm…"

"Mornin' Alison." David froze at the cold voice of Brooklyn's leader. "Mouth," Spot continued, acknowledging David.

"Hello, um… Spot, is it?" Alison said nervously as Spot's eyes flickered with a trace of something unidentifiable to her.

"Come, come, now. You know me far better than that." David coughed uncomfortably.

"I… I think I'll go see where Les is," he excused himself lamely._ How does Spot know Rice?_ He wondered as he peeled himself away.

Spot watched David's retreating back and then turned back to Alison, a slow smile growing on his face.

"Heya, Harmony." Alison avoided looking at him, choosing to become overly interested in the various street vendors. She nibbled her fingernail nervously. Spot cocked his head, perplexed at her attitude. "Y'alright? Harmony?" She ignored him. Rolling his head toward the sky, Spot sighed.

"Harm, what's wrong? You come back to New York and you don't even come to see me?"

"No. I didn't."

"Why not?"

"Because!" Alison insisted stubbornly. Spot took a step closer.

"Because why? Too busy spending time with Davey-dearest? I'm the one that knows you. I'm the one that loved your family." _And you_, he added silently.

"Not enough to come see us, or to visit your _nephew_," Alison spat at him viciously. Spot opened his mouth to retort when the impact of the words she'd just spoken hit him.

"My… my what?"

"That's right," she continued cruelly. "You're dear old brother Patrick Matthews. You remember Lizzie, of course? And of course you remember that they'd only _just_ become engaged when he was killed by that fight."

"I've got a nephew?" Spot asked stupidly. Alison continued speaking as though she was spewing poison.

"Yes, you've got a _nephew_. You're idiotic brother ruined Lizzie's future. You want to know the_ real _reason we had to move? It's because Lizzie was pregnant- with Patrick Jr. In order to save her reputation, Mama and Papa moved. We told everyone that Lizzie was a pneumonia widow. Thanks to your_ dear old brother_ Elizabeth is never going to get married! No, she has to look after your brother's son!"

"Don't blame me! I'm not the one who knocked her up!

"You insolent, lazy, stuck-up pig! I can't believe we ever…" Whatever it was Alison was about to say never was known. At that moment, Spot grabbed her arm and wrenched her to him. She glared at him and was about to continue her shouting when he pressed his lips against hers.

For a long moment, they were no longer Rice and Spot. Alison Riley and David Matthews were children again, just like five years ago. Lips locked in a kiss filled with anger and passion, they were immobile. Pulling away, Spot placed his forehead against Alison's.

"That got you to shut up." Harmony took a few deep breaths.

"Wow. You've gotten good." Spot smirked.

"I have missed you," he rubbed his forehead against her own, "so much. I don't want to fight with you. Start over? Back where we were just before you left? Like we were…"

"On the balcony. The night before I left." Spot smiled at her.

"Yeah. That night. When I made you promise to never forget me." He leaned in and kissed her lightly once more.

"Rice?" Alison jerked away from Spot to look at Mouth. The confusion and hurt in his eyes cut through her. "I thought… tomorrow?"

"David…" Suddenly, Spot laughed.

"Oh, this is precious. Lil' David finally likes a girl- but she's taken! Come on, Mouth. Did you _really_ think Harmony would choose _you_ over _me?_" Two sets of eyes bored into him incredulously as Spot gripped Alison's hand. He looked into her eyes. "You're coming to Brooklyn, right?"

A hand flew from nowhere and smacking Spot across the face, Alison simultaneously jerking her hand away from Spot's. As he rubbed his wound, she glared at him.

"No." He looked at her incredulously.

"What?"

"No! I'm not going with you, _Dividend_. You didn't care enough about me to follow me five years ago when I told you _exactly_ where we were going. I didn't forget you. Oh no. I thought about you _every single _day. Every day, I thought, today, Dividend will come. But no. I had to come to you. There is _no_ way I am coming anywhere with you! Especially not when you are insulting David." Glaring fiercely at him, Rice spun away and started running down the street. Spot began to follow her and would have easily caught her if Mouth hadn't stepped in his way.

Spot pulled back his fist to punch David, but he just shook his head.

"It ain't worth it, Conlon. You hit me, Rice is never going to come back to you. I don't know how she knows you. I don't care to know anymore. But I do know that it was you that she cried over that day." David, too, turned to leave, but paused and glanced back at Spot. A hardness crept into his voice. "She's cried enough over you."

Once more watching David's retreating back, Spot's fist slowly dropped and his mouth closed. _What just happened?_

* * *

Tibby's back ally. Rice had told David that if she was upset, she'd found that to be her most comforting hide-out in this borough. Rather than attempting to follow her, David went straight to the restaurant. Sure enough, he saw an unfortunately familiar sight of a female, cuddled up inside herself, sobbing. Awkwardly, he sat down beside her. She continued to shake, and David put his arm around her back. To his surprise, she flopped ungracefully over and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face once more. Unlike her last episode, David was able to understand her ranting this time.

"I hate him, David. I really do. And I lied to you! I told you I didn't know him. That it was someone else. But it wasn't! It was Dividend! For five, long, stupid years I pined. I'd hoped that maybe he'd come. Maybe he'd save me from my life. But he never did. He never came. He kissed me and walked off the face of the earth. Or maybe it was me that left. I don't know. I'm so confused. I was in love with him. Every night I dreamed about him. Other boys tried to court me, but I compared them all to Dividend. He was everything to me! And I come back. And you… you were amazing. And I thought that maybe I wouldn't have to deal with the past for once. But no. I do. And he kissed me! And I just about flew off the planet. It was wonderful. And I fell back in love with him again. Yes! I love him! But then he became vicious and… and… and…"

Rice started hiccupping. Not the polite kind you normally hear from girls, but body racking hiccups. After several minutes of uncomfortable sounds, David started tickling her. Laughter shot out of her beaten soul. But it did the trick, and the hiccupping stopped. Falling back into David, Rice sighed.

"There I go again. And they say _you_ have the big mouth." David paused, deciding whether he should be insulted at her comment, or excited because she was much more truthful when she was angry. Deciding on the latter, he shook his head.

"Rice…" The girl cocked her head, examining the boy in front of her.

"Are you going to finish that statement?" David laughed weakly.

"I'm horrible at this," he mumbled.

"At… what?"

"Rice, I didn't mean to get a crush on you. I mean, really. I barely know anything about you. You've lied to me. You've run away from me. You kissed another guy only hours after you agreed to see a show with me! There is absolutely no logical reason why I should like you."

"No. There isn't, is there?"

"But I do."

"So I gathered." David looked at her suspiciously.

"You're making this too easy for me to sound like an idiot." Rice smirked.

"Pray continue," she said. Mouth smiled.

"And yet at the same time while I'm examining all the reasons I should hate you…"

"You're finding all the reasons you like me."

"Would you shut up for a moment and let me tell my own confession?" Rice rolled her eyes, but complied with David's request.

"But you're absolutely right. I keep thinking of the way you say random things. Know something about everybody. Can twist around words while still being truthful. And have this overall sense of mystery around you. I mean, truly. I didn't mean to fall in love with you." Rice's jaw dropped and David realized what had just fallen out of his mouth. "I mean, oh damn it. Rice, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that!"

David leaned over to look Rice in the eyes. He was suddenly, uncomfortably aware of how close they were. Her blue irises peered out in from the shadows of the setting sun. She blinked.

"But…" she swallowed. "But was it true?" David merely watched her. "A gal could get lost in eyes like that," she murmured. It was David's turn to blink.

"What?"

"I hate you, David Jacobs. In just a few short weeks, you've managed to make me fall in love. With a curly haired, blue eyed teenage boy staring me in the face." David's smile grew as he once more realized how close he was to Rice. Mere inches separated their noses. Rice tilted her head and leaned in closer. All David had to do was push his lips out and they would touch Rice's. Her voice, soft and commanding, issued a single plea.

"Kiss me."

Mouth willingly obeyed.

* * *

**Told you it was fluffy. Anyway. For those of you really curious about who/what Rice is, check out who Jacob Riis was. It'll give you a good clue. You'll also find out more in the next chapter.**

**Review please and thanks.**


	7. Chapter 7: Some Revelations

**Alright. This chapter actually reveals a lot about _why_ Rice is knowing so much. As a note: Jacob Riis was a real person. After you're done reading, for more info, go to wikipedia. While my facts on him are not totally real, my fictional JR is based on the real one. Don't forget to review!**

* * *

Rice chose a nearly deserted corner and pulled out a worn journal. Scribbling a few thoughts in it, she soon grew bored and flipped back to the beginning of the book.

_Uncle Jacob told me that if I wanted to be a writer, I needed to learn what life was about. I'd given him several of my stories, and he said they had potential. But he said my whole life had been sheltered. If I wanted to change the world, I needed to know what it had to offer me. He was the one who suggested I come back to New York._

Rice sighed, and flipped forward several pages. She scanned entry after entry, detailing the life on the streets. Nearly every newsie in New York was mentioned in this chronicle. She knew something about everyone, it was true. Continuing her whirl of pages, she stopped at one written only a few weeks prior. Glancing at the date, she saw it was the day she'd talked David into rejoining the strike.

_I saw that boy today. David Jacobs. Of course he would have the same name as Dividend. Off topic. He was really dead set against keeping the fire going. Doesn't he realize how much this meant to the working class? This is their life. Just because David has had a perfect life doesn't mean the rest of his friends have. He seemed like he was wondering why winning the strike was so hard. I came up with a theory, and I wish I could share it with someone. As I can't, I'll just tell you. I think that the reasons stumbling blocks are put in our way is to see if what we're aiming for is really worth fighting for. And that's the truth._

* * *

The supper table around David was filled with lively chatter. Jack and Les were taking turns showing off for Sarah who was egging each of them on, and Meyer and Esther were discussing the plausibility of attending their niece's wedding. No one seemed to notice David's lack of conversation or his apparent moodiness. He was fine with that. The meal ended and after helping to clear the table, the silent Mouth stepped out on to the fire escape. Moments later, he heard shuffling behind him and knew that Jack and Sarah had followed him.

"Davey, whatsamatta with you?" Jack inquired. Sarah looked concerned.

"Nothin'," he muttered.

"Liar." Sometimes David hated his sister for being perceptive. Why couldn't she be dumb and clueless like the other girls in their neighborhood? They would have believed nothing was wrong and gone about with their business. David found himself unexpectedly surrounded on either side by his sister and friend, enclosing their hands around him.

"Hey, hey now. Enough of the mushy stuff. Especially _around_ me." The couple smirked at him.

"Tell us what's wrong," Sarah demanded in a singsong voice.

"No."

"Now," Jack put in.

"No."

"Yes," Sarah demanded.

"No!" Their response was joined this time.

"Yes!"

"If I do will you kindly remove your hands?" David grimaced at his awkward embrace. Jack and Sarah obligingly released him. David sank to the floor and stuck his legs over the edge of the fire escape. The others mimicked his movements, albeit Sarah was much more graceful.

"Talk." Jack stared at his friend, sympathy already building. David sighed.

"It's this… girl."

"Brown hair, about your height, blue dress?"

"You know her?" David suspiciously asked his sister.

"Sure," she replied. "It's kind of hard to miss you spending every spare moment with her. Don't know her name though."

"Rice," David said softly, savoring the flavor of her name. Jack smirked.

"Wondered if you were ever going to introduce us. Boots is the only one who's had a chance to talk to her, other than you." David shook his head at the comment.

"I don't know if she _wants _to be introduced. But she definitely knows you. And Skitts. And Blink. And Mush. And…"

"We get it, she knows everyone," Sarah interrupted, eager to get to the point. "What about her?" David squirmed. He'd hoped they would forget the reason the topic had been brought up.

"I'm, um, kind of dating her." Two mouths fell open simultaneously. Jack was the first to recover.

"David! I'm proud of you! Didn't know you had it in you to actually ask a girl out."

"That makes two of us," David muttered. Sarah smiled, still unsure about how to react.

"What about Danielle?" Jack leaned forward to get a better look at his girl.

"Who's Danielle?" he asked.

"No one," David cut in. "Just… this other girl. From before." Jack wisely allowed the subject to drop and looked up at the night sky.

"Well, tell us about her. Tell us about you!" Sarah petitioned. David smiled wryly.

"She's madly in love with Spot Conlon." Jack couldn't help it. He started laughing- barking really. Then he began sputtering.

"Let me get this straight, Davey. You've got a girl- a great girl. And she's got it bad for Brooklyn?"

"It isn't _that_ funny," David muttered bitterly. Sarah looked at him with pity.

"And she doesn't realize how much you like her?" she asked.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure she does. She's a pretty good kisser after she's just had a crying fit."

"David!" The shout came from both. Jack sounded impressed; Sarah shocked. David shrugged.

"I just don't know how to _prove_ that I'm better for her than Spot." The trio fell silent for a moment, examining the stars. Suddenly, Sarah smiled. Leaning behind her brother, she whispered in Jack's ear. Jack paused a moment before nodding in affirmation.

"So, David," she began. "How does this Rice like singing?"

**Meanwhile, across the Brooklyn Bridge…**

"Serenade her? Come on, Mince. You've got to be kidding me." Mince shrugged.

"You asked. Just an idea. You met a girl yet who can resist the sound of a guy who can sing?" Spot paused.

"Well, no…"

"See? It'd be perfect!" Spot rolled his eyes.

"I'm going to the docks," he declared, taking leave of Mince. As he strode through his borough, he was thinking. _It might. It just might work._

**Back in Manhattan…**

David left the two lovebirds sitting on the fire escape after shaking his head at their crazy idea. But as he walked across the apartment to his bedroom, he began to think. _It might. It just might work._

* * *

Rice couldn't get comfortable. She'd slept in alleyways before. Almost every night for an entire year, she'd slept on the streets. But never after she'd been kissed twice in one day. _ Can't sleep. Might as well get some work done._ Rice pulled herself up and checked to make sure she still had her notebook. _Now, to see if I can talk to "Aunt" Medda._

Medda's vaudeville was well lit. As Rice watched, a large amount of people began to flow through the doorways. The show must have just ended, Rice deduced. Slipping through the crowd, she stopped just inside the entry way to the auditorium. Throughout the building, workers were already beginning to pick up the trash left from the audience.

Picking her way through the seats, Rice found a side door that looked like it led backstage. Casually turning her head, she affirmed no one was watching or caring what she did. The door surprisingly didn't squeak as it was pushed open, and Rice let herself through.

It took her a moment to adjust to the sudden darkness. As she was able to see in the dim light, Rice noted she was surrounded by… everything. Dresses strewn across chairs, hats, makeup, gloves. It looked like a tornado had been the one to tidy up last. Taking a step closer to a vanity, Rice attempted to examine the stage makeup, but heard a voice echoing in the hallway leading to her backstage room.

"Now, Toby, I need you to get that order placed _today_, or we'll never get them in time for…" The feminine voice trailed off and Rice looked up guiltily.

"What are you doing here?" A fat man demanded. Rice gathered her senses and looked toward the lady.

"Ma'am, are you Medda Larkson?"

"Yes, yes I am. Now I must ask you to leave. You are in a private room."

"Ma'am, I'd like to talk to you about the newsies." Medda paused, a smile playing on her face.

"Are you a friend or an enemy of the street rats?" Rice cocked her head at the term, but answered as calmly as she could.

"In my clothing, do you truly think I could do anything to harm them?" Medda watched Rice, face smoothed into an impassive state. Rice sighed. "They are my friends."

Medda glanced at Toby. "What are you still doing here? I thought I told you to go make out those orders!" Toby looked like he was about to protest, then thought better of it and excused himself.

"Now," she continued to Rice, settling herself into a chair, "what can I do for you…?"

"Rice."

"Rice," Medda repeated. "Jack give you the name?" Rice shook her head, also pulling up a seat near the beautiful lady.

"David did." Medda's eyes widened slightly.

"That boy with the adorable younger brother?" Rice avoided the question.

"Miss Larkson…"

"Medda, please, call me Medda."

"Medda, then. I'd like to ask you some questions. About the newsies." The singer's face tightened.

"What… what sort of questions?"

"About who they are. Their ways of life."

"Are you with the police?" Medda sounded angry. Rice hastened to alleviate her fears.

"No! Ma'am, I told you. These boys are my friends. Sort of."

"Sort of?" She sounded like she was accusing Rice.

"I mean…"

"You better start talking. Those boys are like my children."

"_Those boys_ are like my friends! And I can't get enough information on them to suit my uncle!"

"Who's your uncle?" Medda stood, danger in her attitude.

"Jacob Riis, ever heard of him?" Rice knew she was being rude, but she couldn't help feeling defensive. Medda sat down abruptly.

"Jacob… Riis?"

"Lived in New York for the longest time. About six years ago moved to Boston. But he's coming back. Soon."

"Your uncle is The Jacob Riis?" Medda sounded like a woman in a dream. Rice realized what had just slipped out of her mouth.

"Yes, but you can't tell anyone!"

"Why are you here?"

"I'm…" Rice paused, and finally decided to confess to the newsies dearest friend. "I'm writing a story. On the newsies and how they live. How they survive day after day on the harsh streets of New York."

"You said they were your friends." Medda's anger had vanished, leaving a calm temperament in it's wake.

"They… weren't supposed to be."

"Oh?" Rice nibbled her finger nail as she continued.

"It was… supposed to be a simple assignment. Uncle Jacob told me to live on the streets for one year. That would make me a better writer because I could write from experience. Then… he'd told me to write about a group of people. I chose the newsies."

"Why?" Rice looked up at Medda.

"Because that's what Dividend always said he wanted to be."

* * *

A cigarette dangled casually from Jack's fingers as David crawled out of his bedroom window. Sarah had long since retired. Neither boy spoke as the night chill seeped into their clothing. The smoke curled up, twisting and contorting into strange images before drifting away, swallowed up by the world's vast space.

"So." David didn't respond. Jack was quiet for another moment before continuing. "Why were you upset at supper?" Again he was greeted by silence. Jack sighed. "You don't get angry because your girl is in love with Spot. If you did, every girl in the city would be off limits," he explained logically.

"No. You don't."

"So…" David eyed his friend.

"She lies just as much as you do." Jack gave a half snort as he considered these words. David sure wasn't having much luck in his friend choices. Jack knew that he himself certainly was not the most trusted newsie in the city after his stunt several weeks prior.

"Lying… As in… how?"

"As in told me her life story and finding out it's a bunch of fairy tales. I'm presuming that it is, anyway, considering her 'non-relationship' with Spot was a load of bologna." David sighed deeply, leaning over the railing. "It's just like… I want to trust her. I like her… I love her! But…"

"You hate liars."

"Basically."

"She knows you know about her lying?"

"I guess. But it seems like it doesn't matter to her. She's got me wrapped around her finger! When I was talking to her about this, she seemed to know exactly what I was going to say. It irked me, but still, I was impressed at the same time!"

"She says jump and you ask how high?" Jack quirked. David laughed a little.

"You got that right." _Or,_ he thought,_ she says kiss and you ask 'how long'. _"Look, Jack. I'm going to head inside. I'll see you later." Jack waved as his friend climbed back through the window. Shaking his head, he descended the stairs.

_I don't think I'm going to like this girl_, he decided. _But then again, no liar ever trusts another._

* * *

**Another Mary Sue quality foiled! Jack doesn't like her... buhahaha...**

**Anyway. Please review when your finished. I actually do write more when the chapters are well received.  
**


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